“Well then.” Morgan cleared his throat.
“Yes, but that’s strange, don’t you think? Why would someone wish to make a sentence heavier rather than lighter?”
“That’s exactly the question, dear sister.”
“Who carried the sentencing papers?”
“A constable’s messenger.”
Joan looked at the papers again. “Someone wants him dead, whoever he is. Rotting way in the London Tower isn’t a light sentence.”
“House arrest is quite different,” Morgan agreed. “Someone wants him to be killed by another prisoner of the London Tower. Easier to accomplish than with someone on house arrest.”
“He must know something? Have seen something?” Joan inquired.
“I’m going to find out.” Morgan stood.
“Wait.” Joan held out her hand and sighed. “As I arrived, I saw the duke’s carriage departing.” She swallowed. “What was the nature of his visit?”
Morgan twisted his lips and cast his attention to the top of the desk and the papers still resting there. “May we speak of it later?” He returned his attentiveness to her.
Joan shook her head once. “I truly wish to know. Even a quick answer will suffice for the moment.”
“You,” Morgan replied. “It was concerning you, and now I have a choice I never wished to make.” He sighed.
“In what way?” Joan asked, frowning as she sensed her brother’s distress.
“I’ll explain later.” Morgan rolled up the papers and watched her. “This is important, and it shouldn’t wait. There’s a prisoner headed to the London Tower who shouldn’t be admitted.” He sighed. “We’ll speak at dinner. The duke will attend as well.”
Joan gasped, then nodded. “Of course. Dinner. Be safe.” She gave her brother a long look.
He nodded, then quit the room like the fires of hell were licking at his heels.
Joan wondered if it was his job that caused his haste.
Or putting distance between the two of them.
Twenty-one
It was hardly the answer he was hoping for, but as the dinner hour approached and Rowles prepared to depart for his engagement at the Penderdale residence, he thought that anything rather than a flat refusal was hopeful.
Morgan hadn’t been surprised by his query.
But neither had he been pleased.
As Rowles stepped into his awaiting carriage, he thought back over the conversation.
“I’ll be direct. You’re my greatest friend, and you deserve no less. I’ve attempted to honor your request concerning your sister and my own convictions, but I can no longer.”
Morgan watched him coolly, nodding once. “You wish for her hand.”
“Yes,” Rowles answered. His heart pounded fiercely at the sound of his affirmation.
“And you believe that she returns your interest?” Morgan asked, his lips twitching as if withholding his true feelings on the subject.
“I’m hopeful that if she doesn’t currently, we have a…friendship that will only lend to a promising future,” Rowles said. He didn’t wish to speak for Joan. He was certain she’d make her own wishes known to both of them.
“I’ll discuss the matter with her.”